For My Smiles
by JoeyBear1424
Summary: If there was one thing Bilbo Baggins was: she was a proper hobbit. And proper hobbits did not get hot and bothered over dwarves. Especially not dwarves who wore ridiculous hats. And who seemed to have deemed it his personal goal in life to make her blush and stutter with a raunchy joke or story. No, that simply was not what proper hobbits did. And she was a proper hobbit. Fem!Bilbo
1. Properness

The comb lands across the room, barely making a sound as the hobbit who threw it groans. There was simply no hope for her hair. Between the troll snot, the chase and the few and far between chances on the road to bathe; her hair was a knotted mess. Bilbo sits before the vanity mirror in the room given to her by the elves. Running through her head is any and every possible excuse about why she can't attend dinner. But it had been far too long since she'd had a proper meal that wasn't a simple soup. And her stomach gives a loud grumble to remind her that she's yet to eaten. Bilbo once again groans, clutching her head between her hands.

"Bugger it all!" Bilbo sighs as someone knocks. She stands and moves irritably towards the door, yanking it open with a glare. Standing there with his ever present smile is Bofur, his dimples deepening as he meets her eye. There was something about him. Maybe it was the strangely shaped hat; the accented voice or the raunchy jokes and story no hobbit lad would ever dream of telling. But there was simply something about the hatted dwarf Bofur that made her flushed late at night on her bedroll; heat pooling between her legs as she thought of him. But that was just the thing, too. If there was one thing Bilbo Baggins was: she was a proper hobbit. And proper hobbits did not get hot and bothered over dwarves. Especially not dwarves who wore ridiculous hats. And who seemed to have deemed it his personal goal in life to make her blush and stutter with a raunchy joke or story. No, that simply was not what proper hobbits did. And she was a proper hobbit. At least that's what she told herself at moments like now when her breath caught in her throat at his dimpled smile.

"I'm here to escort you to dinner." Bofur says, bowing grandly. Bilbo sighs, ducking her head as he does so.

"I'm not going to dinner," She says dejectedly, her head bowed low. "I'm sorry Bofur." And she truly is sorry, especially when she sees the dwarf's downtrodden expression. His mustache seems to droop at her words, his eyebrows furrowing with concern as he stares at her.

"Not going to dinner?" Bofur parrots. "Why ever not," He pauses, his expression becoming thunderous. "Did Thorin say something to upset you? Is that it? Well if that's the case," Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. Bofur's hazel eyes were dark, his lips turned down in a deep frown as he stares at her.

"Oh, no, no," She promises, lifting her hands. "It's nothing like that." Bofur's eyes lighten at her words though he doesn't smile at her.

"What is it then?" Bofur asks; his gaze open and concerned. Bilbo gives a defeated sigh, gesturing for him to come into the room. Bofur does as she asks, glancing around the room with a low whistle. "So this is where you're staying?" Bofur grins at her, offering a wink. "Bedding down with one us isn't good enough for you?" Bilbo flushes at his words, the all too familiar heat pooling between her legs. She swallows hard, clearing her throat. Trying desperately to stop the heat she keeps her gaze anywhere but on the hatted dwarf.

"I'm a proper hobbit, bugger it all." Bilbo hisses to herself as Bofur laughs at her flushed cheeks.

"What was that lass?" Bofur asks. Bilbo turns at his voice, inhaling sharply at his sudden nearness. She and Bofur stand inches apart from each other; his dimpled smile still in place. The sudden temptation to grab hold of the braids sticking out from beneath his hat and tug him down for a kiss is strong; nearly taking her breath away. But she can't—she won't do that.

"I said that I'm not going to dinner because of my hair." Bilbo stutters, gesturing towards the nest of curls.

"Now what's wrong with your hair? None of us look that great right now lass. Or smell that great either." Bofur reminds her. Bilbo nearly winces at his words. She hadn't even thought about how she must smell.

"It's a mess," She gives a defeated sigh, gesturing towards the comb still lying in the corner. "I tried to comb it out but it's useless. Troll snot and grime and sweat—it's disgusting!" Bofur stares at her with a tiny smile quivering on his lips but there's some sympathy in his eyes.

"It's not disgusting," Bofur promises, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Your hair still looks better than Dwalin's." Bilbo bursts into a fit of giggles at his words, only strengthened by the wink he tosses her. As she calms down, a smile on her own lips, her eyes land on his braids.

"Oh," Bilbo says excitedly, running and picking up the comb. She thrusts it at Bofur, nearly bouncing up and down. "Could you braid it for me?" Bofur mouth drops, his cheeks flushing red. His mouth gapes open and closed like a fish as he stares at the comb incredulously. Bilbo lowers the comb slowly, her hand falling back to her side dejectedly. "Did I say something wrong?" Bilbo asks. Bofur's head snaps up at her words; shaking his head so hard the flaps of his head bob up and down.

"No, no," Bofur promises though his cheeks are still flushed red. "You didn't say anything wrong lass."

"Then what is it?" Bilbo asks, worry flooding her body now. Bofur takes a long breath, tugging on the ends of his long mustache.

"It's just that. Well," He pauses, clearing his throat. "Braiding hair is considered a very personal thing among dwarves; reserved for kin and for lovers." Embarrassment floods Bilbo's body, her eyes widening at his words.

"Oh, oh dear," Bilbo stutters; wringing her hands. "I—I apologize Bofur. I didn't mean to offend. Could—could we please just forget this happened?" It probably wouldn't have happened were dwarves not so secretive about their culture she thinks annoyed. Bofur stands before her still, his lips pursed. Bilbo waits for him to turn and leave the room; make some excuse for her absence at dinner. Bofur doesn't speak as he reaches forward, uncurling her fingers from around the comb.

"There _are_ braids for courtship," Bofur whispers, his hand hovering over the comb in her now open hand. "That is if someone is willing to accept," Bilbo stands unmoving, the heat pooling between her legs flooding her body. Bofur flushes, ducking his head at her silence. "Course, I can't give you all the gold and gems in the world."

"You can give me the raunchiest, most improper jokes and stories in the word there are," Bilbo whispers, stepping closer. "And leave me spending countless hours wondering what's under your hat. A piece of your shirt for a handkerchief, heart full of love. And the desire to throw all my properness out the window is what you can give me." And in that moment, Bilbo does throw all properness out the window, giving his braids a tug and pulling him down for a whiskery kiss.

Later when Fili and Kili are told to go find Bofur and Bilbo; they return screaming, red faced and grimacing with disgust. They stutter when asked what happened, the memories of the hobbit wearing Bofur's hat atop her head as he pounded frantically into her; her legs wrapped around his waist all too fresh. And when the dwarf and hobbit in question arrive a few minutes later, red cheeked and starry eyed; the company simply laughs and congratulates them. Wearing Bofur's hat, Bilbo sits comfortably in the toymaker's lap, a beaming look on his face as he plays with a courting braid in her hair.

* * *

><p>So I don't know if I said it before but I'll say it now. For My Smiles; Afternoon Tea; China Doll; As I See It, ect, are all just series of one shots. I may make short stories out of some of them but they'll mostly just be one shots.<p>

Sorry about not posting anything yesterday. I was way too sick. I got about four hours or so of sleep on Sunday night and I was dealing with some extreme depression. My joints hurt all day long and I forgot to eat so I got really, really sick and I just needed to take some time to myself. Thank you everyone so much for all the reviews, favorites and follows on all my things! I appreciate every single one! Also the the first part of For My Smiles will not be posted here on Fanfiction because of its content but I here is the link if you wish to read it: /works/2307680


	2. Enough

Thank you so much to SineNominae; EquusGold; Dark1Luvs; TheHeartsPath; TawnyOwl117; EverydayMagic17; Mighty ANT and rea12 for the follows and favorites! They are greatly appreciated! I hope everyone's having a great weekend, I've been getting so much writing done with this four day weekend :3

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Bilbo/Fem!Bofur

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><p>Bofur's avoiding him. Bilbo had been trying for days now to get the hatted dwarf to talk to him, smile at him, laugh—just look at him. But it was all for nothing. Bilbo noticed it after they landed on the carrock. Bofur had refused to meet his eye as they began their trek down, his hands clutching his pack tightly. Bilbo looked pleadingly at Bifur and Bombur for help but even they wouldn't meet his eye. It continues like this for several days and Bilbo begins to feel fed up with it.<p>

At Beorn's, he sits in the garden with his knees drawn up to his chest. The dwarves have been avoiding him, his bad mood radiating off him. He wants to enjoy this rare break. It's an opportunity to rest, eat real food and grow fat again like Beorn says. But Bilbo's not much interested in food. When he settles down to eat, the bread and honey settles into a block of concrete and the ale tastes of sawdust. His plates have begun to grow smaller and smaller, the honey and ale less and less. And though Gandalf warns him there won't be many more opportunities like this when they resume travel, Bilbo can't bring himself to eat.

"Ye look hungry," Bilbo nearly jumps out of his skin at the accented voice. Bofur stands in front of him, fidgeting as he holds out a plate of bread and honey. "I—I though ye might want some. Ye haven't been eating that much lately."

"Not all that hungry," Bilbo shrugs but takes the plate anyways. "Thank you Bofur." Bofur nods, hesitating as he glances back towards Beorn's house. He sits down with a hesitant look, watching Bilbo's expression.

"I wanted to apologize," Bofur mutters, fiddling with his gloves. "For avoiding ye." Bilbo's hand hovering his food freezes as he slowly lowers it, his eyes looking anywhere but at Bofur.

"Was it because of what I said in the cave? I shouldn't have said that. I really am sorry—I really am." Bofur shakes his head and sighs.

"No, no, it's not that," He promises. "It's something else and I don't know how to tell ye."

"I'm sure it can't be all that bad," Bilbo says lightly, trying to coax a smile from the hatted dwarf. "At least it can't be too bad compared to some of the other things you dwarves do." Bofur cracks a small smile, his hazel eyes twinkling with a little mirth as he lifts his head to look at Bilbo.

"Aye, that's true," Bofur agrees. His face suddenly becomes serious as he sits up a bit straighter, shoulders squared as he stares at Bilbo. "Do you have a sweetheart back home?" At Bilbo's curious look, he clears his throat and rushes forward. "It's just that you've always spoken of your home but never if you have a sweetheart or little family waiting on ye."

"No sweetheart to speak of," Bilbo shrugs. "And certainly no fauntlings though I do have quite a few young cousins underfoot." Bofur nods understandingly, a smile coming to his face.

"Aye, I know how that is," Bofur's smile widens. "Bombur's kids can be enough to drive a dwarf to madness but you have to love them. What do hobbits find attractive?" Bofur's tone is suddenly shy, tentative almost as he hides beneath his hat.

"Well hobbits love a good meal so a well fed stomach is attractive," Bilbo muses. "Big feet with good fur…" His hand strokes the top of his own furred foot absentmindedly. Bofur's mustache seems to wilt as he stares at Bilbo, his expression downtrodden.

"So facial hair isn't attractive then?" Bofur mutters.

"We can't really grow facial hair," Bilbo confesses. "I could manage sideburns if anything, I guess."

"But your women aren't like ours," Bofur continues on. "Don't have beards."

"Well no they don't but I fail to see how that matt—" Bilbo stops abruptly, taking in Bofur's flushing cheeks and the nervous expression. He clears his throat, desperately trying to calm his thudding heard. "I—I—I'm sorry, I didn't know."

"How could ye?" Bofur asks, managing a weak, sickly looking smile. "I didn't expect ye too. We're so alike in voice and appearance to our men and you haven't seen dwarves."

"So you're a woman?" Bilbo manages weakly. Bofur nods, rubbing at her stubbly face.

"Aye, I'm a dwarrowdam," She sighs and shakes her head. "But dwarves don't have well rounded stomachs and my feet are tiny. They don't have any hair on them." She mutters.

"You dwarves are the hairiest creatures alive and that's the one place you don't have any hair?" Bilbo teases, leaning forward to squeeze her hand. Bofur smiles and shakes her head.

"Doesn't matter," She shrugs, attempting to pull her hand away. "Like ye said, hobbits don't find facial hair attractive." Bilbo shakes his head and scoots forward, tugging on one of the flaps of her hat.

"Perhaps I just didn't find other hobbits attractive," Bilbo says and Bofur's cheeks flush a pretty pink as she ducks her head, smiling. "Perhaps I was looking in all the wrong places."

"I should warn ye," Bofur says carefully. "Dwarves have trouble conceiving, pregnancies are rare among our kind, difficult when they happen and I know how hobbits have big families…"

"You're enough." Bilbo promises her, settling down on Bofur's shoulder. He holds up the plate of bread and honey between them, a flush spreading across his cheeks as Bofur tears off a piece to offer him. From inside Beorn's, Bombur and Bifur watch, smiles on their faces.

"It took her long enough." Bombur mutters though he smiles as Bofur beams at their hobbit. Bifur nods his agreement, a smile on his own face.

It would be years later when Bifur and Bombur went to go visit Bilbo and Bofur in the Shire that they would nearly be mowed by. Running around in the front yard of Bag End were a group of children, varying ages and appearances. Some were barefoot, others wearing shoes, hair braided, and curly hair. And there sitting on the bench were Bilbo and Bofur, laughing joyfully as their children jumped on them. Bilbo's hand rests on Bofur's swollen stomach, his face beaming with joy.

"You think five's enough?" Bilbo asks as he rubs Bofur's stomach.

"Let's try for seven," Bofur says, a wide smile on her face as Bilbo flushes red and splutters an answer.


	3. Dream of Me

Thank you so much to Littlenori and SineNominae for the favorite and follows! They are greatly appreciated!

Rating: M

AU: Servant!Bofur, arranged marriage

Warnings: Major character death, suicide.

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><p>They could never be together. They're on two completely different class levels. But it doesn't stop Bofur from dreaming. He sits on the bench in the gardens, puffing happily on his pipe when he hears the swishing of skirts. His eyes remain closed but a smile wide enough to split his face apart spreads.<p>

"Good afternoon Miss Bilba," He calls as the young woman takes a spot next to him. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Bilba blushes at the title and gentle nudges his shoulder with hers.

"No need for formalities Bofur," She chides. "And I always enjoy visiting with you." Now Bofur blushes and ducks his head, hoping that she won't see.

"Ah, I'm but a simple servant." He shakes his head. Bilba hums and lays her head on his shoulder. She smells of sunshine, a light, crisp perfume that Bofur can't quite place and lilacs. It's a heavenly scent and he tries to commit it to his memory as he hesitantly lifts an arm.

"It's okay," Bilba encourages. "Nobody's out here but us." With her encouragement Bofur carefully wraps an arm around her shoulder and Bilba sighs contently, her bare feet swinging back and forth. They sit together like this for some time. Bofur smokes his pipe contently, occasionally offering it to Bilba. A small thrill runs through him each time she accepts it, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes as she places her lips exactly where his lips rested moments before. But all too soon, Bilba pulls away from him with a disappointed look on her face. And with a final squeeze on his rough fingertips she escapes back into Bag End Manor while Bofur goes to the servant's quarters.

* * *

><p>He came to work for the Baggins family five years ago with his brother and cousin. It had not been a month since Bifur had awoken after his head injury and already it had been decided he would not be much good in the mines anymore. As one of the healers packed up his bags, he suggested they go the Shire, a place filled with wealthy, well to do hobbit families, all looking for servants. Bofur had not been too thrilled by the idea and had wanted to put his foot down and say absolutely not. He loved the Blue Mountains, loved the mines and being surrounded by stone everywhere he went. But then he saw his cousins face as he went to work each day, longing and wanting. When Bofur would return from work, covered head to toe in soot, Bifur would turn away from him. But it was obvious to everyone the sting of jealously would not fade in the mountains. So the Ur family had packed their meager possessions and came to the Shire. Rolling green hills, crystal blue rivers and not a single stone in sight had greeted them. Each house appeared small on the outside but the people that emerged he noticed were all well-dressed. And each one seemed to stare at them wearily. All except for a honey haired woman who finally stopped them just as Bofur was ready to turn away from all these stares.<p>

"Well hello there," The woman shook her head. "I don't believe I've met you before. Where are you from?"

"The Blue Mountains," Bofur said and offered a smile that was returned. "My cousin received an injury a while ago unfortunately and was unable to work in the mines any longer. A healer told me hobbits here are looking for servants."

"We are indeed," The woman said and took hold of his pony's reins, directing him towards her smial. "Belladonna Took Baggins at your service." She introduced herself as she led them towards Bag End. Bofur found he liked her quite a bit. She was a talkative woman, adventurous it seemed from the stories it told. As they approached Bag End Manor, Bofur could not help but stop his jaw from dropping as he saw the enormous house.

"Do you live here all by yourself Miss Belladonna?" He asked. "Not meaning any offense of course." Belladonna chuckled warmly and waved a hand dismissively.

"My husband Bungo and my daughter Bilba live her too," She said and nodded towards the front door, painted a rich, bright green. "I'll ask that you wipe your shoes before you come in else Bilba will have fit. Other than that, our home is yours if you wish it to be." She did not ask about their skills and the family looked at each other worriedly. What would she want from them? They sat nervously until a small gasp drew them from their daze. There before Bofur's pony had stood the smallest woman he ever saw, Bilba Baggins. Her hazel eyes were wide with wonder as she lifted a hesitant hand to pet the pony. When she saw Bofur watching her, she flushed red and apologies spewed from her mouth. Bofur heard none of them though as he sat atop his pony and wondered how one person could be as lovely as Bilba Baggins.

* * *

><p>"Is something bothering you Miss Bilba?" Bofur asks, glancing up from his carving. Bilba sits on the ground, her skirt spread around her as she toys with one of the rings on her fingers.<p>

"I'm fine," She mumbles, shrugging. Bofur sets his carving aside and joins her on the ground, pulling her hand away from the ring. She glances up at him and sighs, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. "My father wants me to be married." Jealousy shoots up his spine like a bolt of lightning but Bofur grits his teeth against it, squeezing Bilba's hand in his.

"And you don't wish to be?" He asks and silently pleads that he doesn't sound too hopeful. Bilba sighs and sits back up, running a hand through her curls.

"I don't want to be married yet," She wrinkles her nose. "I want to be like my mother and have adventures and go places," Her face changes to one of earnest curiosity as she stares at Bofur. "Are you married Bofur? Or were you in the Blue Mountains?" Bofur smiles at her, a bit relieved that she doesn't want to be married yet.

"No, I wasn't married," He laughs. "Sides who'd want to marry me now? I'm just miner turned servant who whittles at wood every now and then."

"Me." Bilba says and Bofur swallows at her words, not daring to look up. He doesn't want to see her eyes twinkling as she laughs at him, mocks him. He doesn't want to see the smile on her face as he believes her.

"Don't say that," Bofur whispers, shaking his head. "Not if you don't mean it—I'm okay with not being married. Sides you just said you don't want to be married."

"No, I mean it," Bilba insists and lays one of her hands atop his. "And I said I don't want to be married yet. I want to go on adventures still. We could go on some, couldn't we?" Her tone is so hopeful, her face so open and sincere that Bofur can't help the smile that comes to his own face. She's serious he realizes with a small panicked feeling. She wants me like I want her. But you can't have her a little voice in the back of his head nags.

"I care for you," Bofur whispers and leans forward to gently bump their foreheads together. "I do…I care a great deal for ye. But surely you understand the difference between us."

"You're a dwarf, I'm a hobbit," Bilba shrugged then paused as an angry expression pinched her delicate features. "Are you saying it's because we're from different classes?"

"You're a society girl from a well to do family," Bofur sighs. "I'm nothing really." Bilba stood and stomped her foot decisively, glaring down at him with a thunderous expression.

"Don't you ever compare yourself to nothing again," Bilba whispered furiously as she knelt to take his cheeks between her hands. "Look around you at all you've done. You've been accepted into the family as a trusted companion and you're a wonderful person. You care for your brother and your cousin. You came all the way to the Shire when you could have just as easily stayed in the Blue Mountains."

"Aye, I could have." Bofur agrees quietly.

"And well," Bilba blushes and wrings her hands. "You're my best friend Bofur. Not just when it's only us around. You're my best friend around everyone, above everyone else. I would tell everyone that you're my best friend." Bilba promises him and Bofur's eyes burn with tears as he leans closer and closer, their lips inches away. Her scent, sunshine, lilacs and that light, crisp unidentifiable perfume is almost overwhelming as he reaches up, his calloused fingers brushing the back of her neck.

"You're my best friend too," Bofur whispers and Bilba lets out a happy sigh. "Could I kiss you Miss Bilba?"

"Kiss me," Bilba's voice is a shaky plea, needy as their lips inch nearer and nearer. "Please. Their kiss unhurried, hands tentatively exploring. Bofur's hands run through her curls and he can practically feel the sunshine they've soaked up. When his lips brush her neck he inhales that perfume, his chapped lips brushing her thrumming jugular. Eventually Bilba gasps, slipping her fingers through his. She presses a kiss to his rough finger tips and gasps, panting as she sits up, tugging Bofur with her.

"Enough," Bilba gasps. "Oh, enough Bofur." Bilba gasps through giggles as he presses a final kiss to her forehead.

"Oh, Miss Bilba," Bofur sighed and pressed his forehead against hers. "You're like a dream."

"When are you going to call me Bilba?" She demands, pressing a kiss to his whiskery cheek. "I've told you countless times there's no need for formalities."

"When we're equals I'll call you Bilba," Bofur promises her. "And we'll go on an adventure all over the Blue Mountains."

* * *

><p>Their adventure never comes. A day comes when Bofur's sitting and carving that he sees Bungo standing outside. He paces restlessly, running a hand through his curls until finally the sound of footsteps approach him.<p>

"Ah, you must Thorin Oakenshield," Bungo says and sounds hopeful. "Bilba come out and meet our guest!" Bofur's heart sinks as he stands up and sees the new guest. It's a dwarf, long black hair hanging down his back with bits of silver streaking through it. Two braids hang by either side of his face. His beard is well kept with two small braids hanging down. Piercing blue eyes gaze sharply at Bag End. When Bilba steps outside, his piercing gaze moves to her and Bilba freezes. Her breath catches in her throat and Bofur can see her eyes widen with panic.

"It is an honor to meet you, Bilba Baggins of the Shire." Thorin's rich voice is like nails on a chalkboard to Bofur's ears. Hearing Bilba's strained voice is enough to make his blood boil and he throws his carving aside, stomping towards the servant's quarters.

"What's wrong?" Bombur cries as Bofur storms inside. "Bofur—did someone say something in town?" Bifur watches them silently, his eyes prying.

"I didn't go to town," Bofur manages through clenched teeth, his fists clenching and unclenching. "Someone has come for Bilba's hand." Bifur stands and wraps his arm around him, signing slowly.

"Best friends," Bifur promises. "Always best friends." Bofur sighs and bites his lip against the coming onslaught of tears.

"I don't want just best friends," He sighs and moves to the window. Bombur and Bifur follow him, their gazes all falling on Bilba and Thorin. The two stand in front of Bag End, talking too quiet to be heard. Thorin offers her his arm and as they walk inside, Bilba looks towards the spot where Bofur normally sits with such longing. Until finally she sighs and follows Thorin inside.

* * *

><p>Bofur sees little of Bilba for the next few months. She spends most all of her time with Thorin. When they see each other, it's fleeting glances. Bilba's always on Thorin's arm, her gaze longing as she passes by him. Thorin doesn't seem to notice and if he does he just tugs on her arm to get her attention. He glares at Thorin's back as he walks away and throws him a crude sign that would make the toughest warrior blush crimson. Bilba doesn't blush or giggle with him, duck her head or twist or rings. Thorin's a poison, sucking away her life day by day. Bofur, the antidote sits idle and does nothing.<p>

Bilba finally comes to him one night, long after the others have gone to bed. Inside the house, all the lights have gone off. Bofur sits on the stone bench, carving halfheartedly. Bilba sits next to him, holding something in her hands. When he glances down at her hands, he nearly keels over from shock.

"He wants me to wear shoes," Bilba manages and her voice is choked up by tears. "I told him that hobbits don't wear shoes—and he told me if I was going to be his queen someday, the consort. I have to wear shoes." Bilba chokes out and sobs raggedly. Bofur winces and takes the boots from her hands, throwing them away from the bench.

"Don't wear shoes," Bofur growls. "Don't ever put on those boots or any other shoes." Bilba sniffles and shakes her head, wiping at her bloodshot eyes.

"Bofur," Bilba whispers and her voice is pleading. "Please, take me away from here." Bofur lifts his hands, cupping her cheeks in his.

"And take you where lass?" Bofur whispers, tears burning in his own eyes. "I don't know where we could go."

"The Blue Mountains," Bilba suggests, sniffling once more. "Rivendell, I don't care. Please, just take me somewhere else. Anywhere."

"Okay, okay," Bofur whispers. "Take my pony and go to Rivendell. Wait there with the elves. I'll join you a few days after you get there."

"Promise?" Bilba whispers, her tone full of hope. Bofur nods and bumps their foreheads together, giving her a final kiss as he goes to get her a pony. The couple shares a final kiss and forehead bump as Bilba departs into the night, supplies strapped onto the back of her pony.

When everyone awakens the next day and asks in a panic where Bilba is, Bofur's the calm one. He says that Bilba got a bit of Took in her and decided to go on an adventure to see the elves. Thorin's face twists with disgust at this and Bofur gives him a glare as the others all laugh and sigh, oblivious to Thorin and Bofur. Bofur goes about his duties as normal and prepares to join Bilba in Rivendell. Only Bilba never makes it to Rivendell. On the day he's to depart, Bofur awakens to gut wrenching screams. He sprints from the servant's quarters and towards the source of the sound. Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins are hunched over their daughter, screams ripping from their throats as they clutch her bloodied body, covered in gashes and wounds. Bombur and Bifur try to block her body from his sight, whispering for him to stay back as the Rangers who found her comfort her parents.

"Let me through," Bofur cries, pushing past his family. "Let me through!" And he joins Belladonna and Bungo, his forehead against Bilba's as he sobs, begs and pleads with her to come back, don't be dead. The Rangers who found her tell them that a wolf attacked Bilba and with no weapon to defend herself, not a walking stick or even some rocks, she was defenseless. Bofur's face becomes a mess of snot and tears as Bungo and Belladonna approach him, Thorin hovering behind them with an unreadable gaze.

"Bofur," Belladonna whispers as she twists her tear soaked handkerchief in her hands. "Surely you know how much we care for you. You've been a wonderful friend to us all and a great handyman to the family. But—I cannot have you stay. We can't have you around. It's a painful reminder, knowing you knew that our Bilba left."

"I understand." Bofur whispers and he goes to gather his things, prepare for his trip back to the Blue Mountains. And even though he wants to apologize a thousand times, tell them he didn't think about it that far, he's selfish. He wants to tell them just how selfish he is. But he doesn't. He simply packs his things even when Thorin comes in and hovers behind him.

"Tell me," Thorin says, stroking his beard. "Did she make you happy miner? Did she make you feel special? Even as she took my hand, ignored yours and walked with my arm instead of yours. Did she make you feel special?"

"She made me the happiest I've ever been." Bofur says and turns around. When he's punched in the stomach, the air knocked out of him, he doesn't make a sound other than gritting his teeth tight. He refuses to give this bastard the satisfaction and watches satisfied as Thorin turns and exits, his face a mask of indifference. Belladonna and Bungo give the Ur family food and supplies as a parting gift but refuse to meet their eye as they thank them for their years of service. When they look back, the two hobbits have gone back into Bag End. But Thorin stands at the gate, watching them with something close to smug satisfaction.

* * *

><p>Bofur can't quite settle back into the Blue Mountains. He doesn't care for the loudness of the taverns, the pushing and shoving. The laughing, joking and near roaring volume is too much. He tries at first to talk to a dwarrowdam, two months after their return. But she doesn't smell of sunshine, crisp perfume or lilacs. She smells of a forge, stone and the mountain. Bofur mumbles an apology and backs away from her, his pint abandoned on the table.<p>

He carves toys during the day, sitting with Bifur at their stall. But more and more often his hands hurt or he becomes distracted. The toys will be half finished and set aside. Bifur stares at him with what he fears is disappointment and most days, Bofur leaves before the days over, too embarrassed to look his cousin in the eye. On those days, he goes home and sits by the window. His times divided between staring at the window and at the door. He keeps hoping maybe someday a knock will come and he'll open the door to see Bungo or Belladonna. Or one of the other Shire hobbits that have come to tell him hello, ask how he's doing. But nobody ever comes except for Bombur and Bifur.

Most nights he wakes up from nightmares about Bilba's death. After the dream, he lies awake and clutches the blankets, praying to Mahal for a dream that reunites them. But each time he closes his eyes, he's confronted by the same thing each time: a wolf and his little hobbit, defenseless against the creature. Until finally Bofur rises and stares at the door once more, praying now that maybe Bungo and Belladonna will come tell him hello. Or any one of the Shire hobbits.

When he hears talk of Thorin going on a quest to reclaim Erebor, he pays no mind. He watches silently and waves goodbye as his family departs, a smile on his face. The last thing Bofur recalls is slipping the rope around his neck. On his bed rests his final carving. The green door is painted carefully as he carves the curls with a shaking hand. The couple rests on a bench beneath a tree and on the tree, carved in tiny letters is Bofur and Bilba. He smiles at the carving as he takes a deep breath and steps off the chair.

* * *

><p>Bilba's as lovely as he remembers her being, a gentle smile on her face that only widens as he steps off the ship. Bofur steps off the ship hesitantly, worried this is only a dream again. But then Bilba's running to meet him and they're kissing. He's suddenly enveloped by the scent of sunshine, perfume and lilacs. And clutched in his hand is his last carving. And it's real. Mahal help him, it's real.<p>

"Don't say sorry," Bilba whispers; pressing her fingers to his lips. "Don't you say sorry for a single thing."

"Where am I?" Bofur whispers as she links her fingers through his and leads him off the ship.

"You're in the Undying Lands," Bilba says and smiles at him, squeezing his hand. "I've thought about you a lot these years."

"I've thought about you too Bilba," Bofur admits and lifts her hand to kiss her knuckles. "We're finally equals."

"Silly dwarf," Bilba shakes her head. "We've always been equals."


	4. Opposites

Thank you so much to Andromeda-170; RoseJustice; fishesforwishes; cococamper; Tech Support and ma5dz for the follows and favorites! They are greatly appreciated!

Rating: T

Warnings: None

Fem!Bofur/Fem!Bilbo

* * *

><p>They're extreme opposites but somehow it works. Though Bofur still doubts herself sometimes. Bilba loves her that she is sure of. She's proved it over and over on the quest and Bofur does her best to prove it to her every day. But sometimes she speaks without thinking, is a little too coarse. And she curses herself when she sees Bilba wince at a joke or story. Bilba winces at a story now and Bofur leans her forehead heavily against her arm, peeking up at her through her lashes.<p>

"Sorry," Bofur mutters and presses a light kiss to her arm. "I'm sorry love." Bilba smiles gently and presses a kiss to Bofur's hatted head.

"I picked you," Bilba reminds her with a soft smile. "I wouldn't have it any other way." She promises and wraps her arms around Bofur's shoulders.

When they get dressed in the mornings Bofur can't help but notice the differences in their bodies. Her shoulders are broad from years of working in mines and laboring; arms muscled and hard from battle. Scars riddle her body and she puts layer after layer upon her body. Her body lacks curves in favor of firm, sharp edges. Bilba's all curves and soft, smooth lumps it seems. Her breasts were ample were as Bofur's were firm. She could wear dresses Bofur noted without the fabric straining across her shoulders or her chest hair peeking from the top of her chest.

Bofur stares at herself in the mirror one morning and frowns deeply as she tries once more to smooth the front of the dress. Her thick chest hair is peeking out the top of the dress and hard as she tries she can't hide it. The fabric across her shoulders feels too tight and she would rather not wear this dress. But every hobbit lass here seems to wear dresses. And she wants to show Bilba she can like them. This is how Bilba finds her when she comes into their bedroom.

"Bofur love," Bilba cocks her head. "Is something wrong?" Bofur's cheeks flush pink as she clears her throat and looks down at her feet.

"It's getting to be too hot for my layers," Bofur mumbles and fidgets under Bilba's gaze. "But this dress—I'm not made for dresses."

"Not made for dresses?" Bilba parrots and stares at with furrowed brows. "You're lovely in dresses."

"I don't feel lovely," Bofur mumbles and tries to shrug. "It's too tight…" She manages and Bilba hums as she runs her hands along Bofur's shoulders.

"I can fix that," Bilba promises and Bofur hands over the dress. "And I think your hair is beautiful. All of it." Bilba adds and reaches up to scratch lightly at Bofur's chest hair. Bofur blushes and stares affectionately at Bilba's back as she walks out of the room. Bilba fixes the shoulders so they're not so strained but she insists that Bofur allow her chest hair to still be on display. Bofur does so a bit grudgingly until Bilba reaches up and keeps scratching soothing circles as they sit side by side.

Bofur loves children and accepted long ago that she would probably never have any because she was a dwarrowdam. Accompanied by the fact that she preferred the company of women instead of men she knew that children weren't going to be in her future. But it seemed that every time they left the house there were even more children. Sometimes she would catch Bilba staring longingly at the children running around and Bofur felt a sour punch of guilt deep in the pit of her stomach.

It's after one of those days that Bilba rolls over to Bofur in their bed. Bofur's kisses aren't as fevered, as wanting or desperate as Bilba's and she realizes this as she pulls away. Bilba strokes Bofur's stubbled face and Bofur can feel the anxiety rolling off her in waves.

"What's wrong?" Bilba asks. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No ye didn't do anything wrong," Bofur promises and noses Bilba's curls. "I'm just thinking is all."

"Thinking about what?" Bilba asks and rubs soothing circles on her back.

"Would you like me better if I was a man?" Bofur asks, her voice muffled by Bilba's curls. "Then I could give ye children and—we could do more than what we do now. Do ye want to make a sort of strap on thing for us?" Bilba's silent for so long that Bofur's wonders if she's fallen asleep.

"I love my dwarrowdam," Bilba promises her and wraps her arms around her, pulling her firm, muscled body to hers. "I accepted that I wasn't going to have children a long time ago when I realized my preferences were different and if you want to make something for us. Well you may but realize that I love you no matter what you are. No matter what race, gender—what dangles between your legs or doesn't. You're my Bofur." Bofur sniffles and tries desperately to stave off the tears as she kisses Bilba's temple.

"And I love my hobbit," Bofur promises. "Can we at least want a dog?" She tries and a smile creeps onto her face.

"A cat," Bilba says and Bofur can hear the smile in her own voice. "Maybe."

There wouldn't be a dog or even a cat. But instead the addition of Bilba's little nephew Frodo. His first day there the little curly haired boy sits at the table, clutching an apple tightly as if scared someone might steal it from him. Bofur smiles gently at him and holds out her hand slowly. Frodo watches her carefully and pulls the apple tighter towards himself.

"Would ye like me to cut it up?" Bofur asks and Frodo after a long moment of hesitation finally hands it over. Bilba comes to sit next to Frodo with a small smile on her face as Bofur cuts up his apple.

"You'll like Bofur a lot," Bilba promises. "She's very funny and nice—she made me smile when nobody else could." Bilba looks up and they share a smile. Frodo peers at Bofur shyly as Bofur hands over his now sliced apple.

"Could you make me a hat like yours?" He asks and Bofur's smile nearly splits her face apart.

"Of course I can." Bofur promises and sets to work on it that afternoon. As she works she stares fondly at Bilba whose hair is getting longer. She's added more braids to it and today wears one of Bofur's tunics. The sight sends her heart a flutter and she grins as she works on Frodo's hat.

With the addition of Frodo comes even more fauntlings. He brings friends back to Bag End and always they want to hear stories of Bilba's adventure. And when they find out that Bofur was a part of the company they demand to hear her part of the story too. And when they find out she's a woman the fauntlings ask all sorts of questions about dwarfs. It's not uncommon for Frodo to come back with four of five others trailing after him back to Bag End. Frodo wore his hat proudly and when Bofur presented more clothes to him, he wore them just as proudly and strutted about the Shire with his head held high.

"I look a bit ridiculous," Bilba sighs and plucks at the overly large tunic that hangs to her knees. She looks back at Bofur with a raised eyebrow. "Do you really like it when I wear your clothes?"

"Oh aye," Bofur promises and wraps her arms around Bilba's waist. "Much as you love it when I wear hobbit clothes." She presses kisses against Bilba's neck and smiles as Bilba scrunches her shoulders up with a giggle.

"Oh that beard," Bilba giggles breathlessly and wiggles back against Bofur. "No better feeling in the world…." She sighs and leans up to kiss Bofur's lips. Bofur puts her hands on Bilba's shoulders and stops her. "What's wrong?" Bilba asks and her eyebrows furrow with worry.

"I think I lost something." Bofur mutters and stares worriedly at Bilba.

"Lost something," Bilba says. "What have you lost?"

"My heart to you." Bofur grins at her and scoops her up bridal style, carrying her to the bed. They're extreme opposites but somehow it works. And Bofur still doubts herself sometimes Bilba's always there to reassure her.


End file.
